


Four Brothers, One Serenade

by King of Novices (mykonos)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Humor, Language, M/M, Power Bottom, Protective Older Brothers, Sexual Content, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:37:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2166039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mykonos/pseuds/King%20of%20Novices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Federico decides to serenade the handsome Syrian he bumped into on a cocktail party, little does he know that he will have a protective older brother to deal with first before getting into Kadar's pants. What he knows even less is that his handsome Syrian is full of surprises. </p><p>aka Federico serenading Kadar (with Ezio's assistance) and having a shouting contest with Malik in the middle of night after getting drenched.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Brothers, One Serenade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PicMurasaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PicMurasaki/gifts).



> Since my birthday is in a few days I decided to give out fic gifts and I chose four requests. This is the first one.

When they first run into each other, Kadar is in a hurry and Federico is slain.

Slain by the young man who accidentally (unless you believed in fate or lady Luck) bumps into him, collides right with his chest if Federico's memory is to be trusted, because the man looks up at him to express regret at this mishap and Federico is _slain_.

The young man is carrying a huge plastic bag that erupts into a loud crinkle as they crash into each other, and there is a tiny roundish swell on his left cheek where he has deposited a caramel he's been chewing on, and his breath carries the scent of butterscotch and innocence when he lifts his head to offer apologies into Federico's face. But all of this is a trifle beside the vibrant blue of his eyes that fastens Federico to the spot.

Federico is romantic enough to believe in love at first sight, but he considers it an event so rare and exceptional that he almost doesn't even believe in it. Unless the spark of attraction is so surprising that not even Federico is prepared for the surprise, it's not even falling in love. And Federico is sufficiently sure that he would drag his dick through a forest of fire ants to get into his pants, so it may as well fall under the category of love at first sight.

For a startling, fleeting moment Federico can't push his limbs into movement and the blue-eyed man is shifting away from the awkward proximity of bodies, sidestepping to bypass him.

Federico is quick to cut off his path.

The young man glimpses up at him, because the height difference is slight but it's there, somewhat confused by having his track blocked off, but he blames it on another accident.

Until he tries with Federico's other side where his attempt is cut off again as the Italian sidesteps to put himself up as a breathing barricade.

Blue eyes blink up at him again, now with a dawning realization that he is being held there intentionally.

They stand eye-locked for a few seconds, in the walkway between the foyer and the ballroom Federico was about to enter, not a soul to disturb them.

"By Cupid I'm slain..." Federico drops to a lower tone, one meant to lure in a prey, one which doesn't seem to be working now when he needs it most.

The man so close to him scowls and gives a nasal chuckle before the side of his mouth stretches into a half-grin.

"What…?"

Mute mirth makes his blue eyes gleam, and the expression settles handsomely on his face and puts Federico's heart to a drum. The rest of his face is equally enchanting, a caramel bronze of skin and unruly hair dark like kohl, and lashes so thick Federico would have mistaken them for a woman's had he less knowledge about the pair of balls hanging between the person's legs.

"Have gods beheld such beauty as yours?" Federico allows himself a hint of movement, a small shift to lean forward, but the man stands unflinching.

He stares up at Federico and his jaw slowly begins to work as he resumes chewing on that melting caramel in his cheek, a wet munching the only sound coming from him for a short time during the silent inspection.

Federico follows the movement as the man licks once across his front teeth to rid it from the soft chew, then smacks his lips.

"You realize I have a dick, right?"

Federico breaks into a toothy grin, "Of course."

"And so? What do you want?" The young man inclines his head to the side while playing dumb, but Federico knows his kind and he's not intimidated because his face speaks when his words do not and beneath that layer of what appears to be disinterest he is brimming with provocation, the kind that is supposed to goad Federico into demonstrating how far he's ready to go.

"Your name, for starters. Your phone number for the main meal. And a date for the dessert. Not too much for a first course, is it?"

It's enough to ease the man into flirtation, here, in the middle of a hallway crammed with passing guests only moments before. He slants his head further to the side to give himself a better vantage to eye Federico up and down, his lips blooming into a toying smile and face melting into a coquettish mellowness.

"You can get my name for starters, for the main course, and for the dessert, and that's being generous," he replies in near-whisper, and Federico is caught between wringing disappointment and delight, because this man knows how to tease despite his innocent looks, "It's Kadar."

"Federico." He returns, offering his hand that barely manages to fit in the space between their bodies. Kadar's gaze drops to it before he clasps it in a handshake much overdue, but he has no sooner tightened his hand around Federico's when the man grips and pulls Kadar across the remaining distance between them. Kadar seems like the type of person who needs firmer convincing, who needs more than a few puny words to win him over, and Federico is game.

"Are you sure you can't spare a little dessert for a man hungry for your attention?" And Kadar is close, so close that his caramel-scented breath puffs across Federico's chin as he flinches back to avoid an ugly clash of heads.

Kadar's jaw unhinges to work his mouth into speaking, but then there is an inconvenient intruder.

"Who's this?"

Kadar pushes suddenly at Federico's chest, recoils, begins to clear his throat conspicuously while the man now towering at his back makes himself known.

"Kadar?" He prompts, and Federico is pressed to remove his gaze from Kadar's face to inspect him, this somewhat older version of Kadar so strikingly different in appearance that you could scarcely believe they are related. On the man's face is a dark scowl that could chase the Furies from face of Earth, a man (a sibling by all probability) who now stands at Kadar's back like a cloak of protection repelling all that would lay eyes upon his brother.

"No one, brother." Kadar hurries to assure and Federico is sorry to find his guts responding to this rather scandalously, with a blend of hurt and sting of rejection. Karma is a bitch, this must be a revenge for the hearts he's broken in his lifetime.

The older brother sets his hand upon Kadar and leads him out by the shoulder, sparing Federico a dirty look as they pass by without a word.

Federico doesn't glance back, but he waits while the crinkle of Kadar's bag follows the brothers out of the foyer.

 

* * *

 

 Federico isn't used to this.

He is used to immediate results when he starts courting a potential partner. If they don't give in within a few hours, he calls it quits. It's not like Federico is tired of courting Kadar, but he doesn't know where he stands.

How far along is he, what point has he reached? Halfway? A third of way? A quarter? How long yet until Kadar says yes to a date?

Through connections he had found out full names of the Syrian brothers, and soon thereafter he got Kadar's number. Kadar had reluctantly revealed his address a few days ago, and Federico has begun intensifying his work.

And tonight he promised Ezio more lessons in courting.

Tonight he is going out on a hunt.

 

* * *

 

Kadar shifts restlessly in his bed.

A persistent and recurring pattern of tapping makes him slip in and out of conscience, but his body resists waking up. He sinks further into the suppleness of his pillow, trying to block out the noise and fall into firmer sleep, when a particularly loud whack comes from his window where something has just hit the glass.

Kadar startles up and rises from bed, blinks the grogginess away, and with a disbelief he realizes even before shuffling over to open the window that someone is calling his name.

Not calling per se, not shouting, but hissing in loud whispers. And there is more than one voice.

He ruffles through his hair once before he shoves the curtain aside and opens the window to lean across it and see what's happening down there.

He barely misses a roundish object flying towards his general direction. It whizzes past his left ear and lands somewhere inside his bedroom, and Kadar is wide-eyed in the wake of this attack.

" _What the fuck_?"

"Kadar!"

" _Federico_?!"

It doesn't surprise him, yet at the same time it does.

Federico stands three stories below with Ezio at his right, a handful of wrapped roundish things almost spilling from his palm and a guitar slung over his shoulder while he's looking up at Kadar with a grin of greatest mischief.

He takes one of the pellets from his palm and pulls his arm back, aims, and hurls it up towards Kadar who extends his arms to catch it, and he then realizes he's holding a caramel in his hands and that Federico has been pelting his window with caramels.

Kadar scowls at the chew candy in his hand like it's the perpetrator of this midnight disturbance, and Federico pulls him from musings when he takes up his guitar and slinks slowly into a melodious string while he and his brother get ready to top it off with a song.

They aren't half that bad.

Kadar unwraps the caramel with a blooming smile and listens to the brothers sing along the music, some Italian serenade Kadar can't even begin to unravel because his knowledge of Italian doesn't extend beyond 'yes, 'no', 'thank you' and a few ugly curses, but the melody is catchy and Federico's singing is decent, and no one had ever serenaded him before, so it's worth listening to.

Kadar leans into the closed right wing of the window and chews slowly on the present he's grown familiar with because Federico has been sending him bouquets for the past week, without a note, but with bags of colorful caramels attached, and it wasn't hard to guess who has been sending them.

The buttery softness of the candy blends with the minty scent of his toothpaste and he lets the taste settle on his tongue and wonders what Federico tastes like as he listens to the pretty song, sighs almost dreamily.

Federico is a skirt-chaser and generally the type of man who couldn't settle for the life of him, a type of guy Kadar wouldn't glance twice at, but Federico is also attentive to detail and has a romatic air about him peculiar to Italian men that Kadar finds charming. Kadar is no fool. He knows Federico is in love with him already, unless his game of love is a crooked road of broken promises.

And his eyes are gleaming with a softness and his smile is soft and his song is soft, until the softness grows in volume, enough to wake up half the neighborhood, but Kadar doesn't care, he only cares to hide his own excessive softness, to hide from Federico how enamored he is.

Someone else does care about the noise though.

And before Kadar can register any noise, any steps or movement, any indication of what is about to happen, Malik bursts into the brothers' vision before there is a big splash of water flying towards them and there is nothing they can do, and nothing Kadar can do either.

Malik stands triumphant next to him, with now-empty basin in hand, smirking down at the two Italians drenched and soaked in icy water he just poured over them.

The song is no more.

But a burst of laughter rings out from several windows across the circling buildings where people have been looking out to watch the display in the community garden below.

The brothers retreat without a word and in low spirits, shuffling away towards their car like two soaked pups, unused to such a bitter reception.

 

* * *

 

Kadar keeps tossing and turning, but sleep won't visit him. All he sees is Federico's beaten expression before he went into a retreat. He is mad at Malik for splashing them with water and filled with guilt for just looking at this in bewilderment instead of offering parting words. Federico must have felt humiliated, and Kadar can't imagine the man hurrying to continue his pursuit in this old-fashioned but welcome courting.

Kadar is not one to say yes easily, but he was almost lured into acquiescence before Malik ruined everything with his blind urge to protect him and shelter him, and what an absurd notion it is, because Kadar isn't a child. In fact, he is a—

This time there are no caramels. But there is a loud beckoning whisper of his name.

Kadar bolts from the bed like thunder-struck and doesn't have to open the window this time because it's already wide open. He looks down and finds Federico and Ezio same as an hour ago, only in a change of clothes.

Federico's face isn't soft as it was last time, but it's firmer, more determined than before as he resumes from where he last stopped singing, and Ezio joins in presently and eases himself along his brother's voice.

Kadar breaks into a smile and a painful warmth spreads through his insides to the point of brimming, with a sliver of fear because the Italians are bold in their singing this time, more prone to drawing attention, and Kadar knows what might follow if Malik hears.

A handful of people are already opening their windows, some grumbling, some curious, and some expectant, waiting to see a reprise of the last episode.

And Malik does hear.

Kadar is attentive to his surroundings this time and he hears the thudding of his approaching steps, hears the sloshing inside the basin before he sees a huge splash plummet down onto the brothers a second time in a single night.

Kadar sinks into his hands to hide his embarrassment and anger and a medley of other emotions he can't single out, puts himself out of sight by concealing his eyes and leaning into his palms.

Only Federico and Ezio don't withdraw this time.

This time, they resume their song in the face of all the laughter tumbling upon them from various windows, until the audience quietens.

Kadar lets his palms drop and gapes at Federico, standing down there unflinching, singing louder than before, strumming his guitar with a determination. Kadar breaks into a grin, and he is in love. He is so in love—

"GAAAY!" Someone shouts from a window on the building across theirs, and Ezio looks up at the source of noise, drops out from the duet for a fleeting second to shout back:

"Your sexual orientation is of no concern to us!"

Malik meanwhile is fuming like fat cigar, glaring down at the duo causing all this ruckus while Kadar is busy melting in a goo of mellowy happiness.

"I've seen stuff where I thought 'what drugs does a man have to pop before he's ready to pull horseshit like this', but this takes the cake." Malik growls, to Kadar or to himself, but when he speaks next he yells down at the brothers, "Could you please put your yowling on vibrate!?"

"This doesn't concern you! You can kindly fuck off!" Federico retaliates, mindless of the commotion they are brewing before a growing number of witnesses.

"Reported for public disturbance!" Malik thrusts his phone into their vision, shaking it wildly.

"Reported for sucking a bag of dicks!" Ezio joins the fray, shouts back.

Kadar can only watch in mortification as this escapade unfolds.

"Reported, called the cops, called the Fire Department, called the Royal Navy, called the FBI, called the CIA, called Interpol, called Obama, called the Queen, called Putin, called Montezuma and Caesar, called the British Army in every era, called CNN, called Steven Colbert, called half of the Mexican Drug Cartel, and called your mom!" Malik is almost frothing up with rage by the time he finishes, almost flinging his phone out from the sheer force of his agitated shakes.

"Har-har-fucking-har! I almost died from laughter, you fuckhead!"

"Almost!? That's too bad!" Malik yells at Federico who is getting increasingly fed up with everything.

"You can call the Pope himself for all I care, I’m leaving!"

"Thank you for informing us that we no longer can enjoy your company! I am trying to care—!"

"—But I’ll come back!"

Kadar has no doubts he will.

 

* * *

 

Malik is asleep at last, and Kadar begins to work.

From his drawer, he takes the red wrapper.

From his dresser, he takes his uniform.

From the ceramic bowl in the hallway, he takes the key.

To lock Malik in.

He is not on duty tonight, he doesn't have the vehicle, but he has some of his other gear.

And that's enough.

 

* * *

 

Federico is in low spirits when he heads Kadar's way for the third time tonight. It's long past midnight. Ezio is not with him. He is fatigued by what he deems are vain efforts, however supportive of Federico's endeavors to win Kadar over. Federico bears no ill feelings toward his brother—he, too, is used to speedy success and these silent rejections have tired him out.

So Federico drives alone.

Malik is bullheaded, but so is he.

He drives on with steely determination, bent on showing Kadar that he is serious and that he won't buckle under the first setbacks. Federico is so suddenly resolute in his undertaking and his thoughts that he almost misses the cop that flashes a stop sign for him to pull over, and it's not that Federico is afraid of the police, it's not his first time having to pull over because of cops.

It's the realization that this cop is Kadar that makes him gawk through the passenger's door.

Kadar knocks against the glass and watches it roll down, bends to smirk at the Italian who is yet to find his wits.

"Pull over, sir." Kadar commands, low in tone and smirking in a way absolutely illegal.

Federico swallows to loosen his knotted throat, but his guts are aflame, and his crotch is on fire, because—

—because Kadar is in a uniform. _Kadar in a uniform_.

Kadar is a fucking _cop_.

Federico follows instructions as Kadar leans away and gestures for a place to pull over and park his car, because both of them know Kadar isn't on duty and this is not an ordinary police stop. Federico doesn't know what Kadar's intentions are, but he is eager to find out, and ready for anything.

He is less ready for the secluded place Kadar leads him to, between a throng of garage cells in the vicinity of the apartments, and Federico is prompted into getting out of the car after he comes to a stop. He turns off the ignition, gets out, closes the door, and Kadar is smirking so wickedly while he motions for him to turn around.

"Brace your hands on the vehicle, sir."

Federico does, grins from ear to ear only once his visage is hidden from Kadar's sight and puts his hands on the side of his car, his fingers drumming playfully across the roof.

"Why are you pulling me over, officer? Done something wrong?" Federico asks, allowing his voice to assume a hint of flirt. Kadar is stepping up to him, setting his palms below his armpits and trailing down in a slow crawl.

"Yes, sir. You've been very, _very_ naughty." Kadar whispers below his ear, nudges his feet apart and slips down to Federico's ass to grab handfuls with no shame and little coyness, "You're answerable to me for your misdeeds, sir."

Federico rolls his shoulder down to present offers and Kadar bites the bait, starts into a climbing nuzzle from shoulder up before he travels the same route down with wet kisses. His greedy hands he replaces with with his crotch, drives himself against Federico until they are a mesh of bodies against the side of the car. There is confidence, and a hint of haste in Kadar's touch, in the way he maps out Federico's body and pats him down in a farce of frisk, but Federico plays the obedient citizen and the semi-passive role. That is, keeping his hands on the car and his legs spread while grinding back into Kadar while the Syrian is worrying the line of his neck.

Then the younger man retreats.

"Get inside the car." Kadar orders, his tone a touch too breathy.

Federico has hardly hit the backseat, hardly moved his guitar over onto the passenger's seat when he finds himself handful of Kadar. Kadar is inelegant in his want, rests his entire weight into Federico's lap, his hands slipping through Federico's hair at sides before he tightens his hold and _grips_ , angles Federico's head up to his personal convenience and holds him in place as he bends to take what he has appetite for, and Federico, the poor man, can merely sit and take it all.

Kadar is a wolf in sheep's clothing, a devil with an angel's wings obscuring his curvy horns and his swishing tail.

Kadar's mouth is eager and his tongue is sweet, sweet with the scent of soft caramels and thick lust, and Federico has been hungering for this dessert for weeks. His arms are coiled round Kadar's waist in a vice grip, lost in the heavy fabric of Kadar's navy uniform, in overwhelming urge to hold him near, as close as possible while Kadar plunders through the kiss in search for Federico's submission.

What he knows less is that Federico submitted the moment he gazed into the vivid blue of his eyes, because some eyes can strike you and slay you for the rest of your days.

Kadar brings his hands upon Federico's shoulders to keep him in place while he pushes back to disentangle himself from the tight grip on his waist, then slips in into the chink between their bodies to lay a hand across his left breast and feel Federico's wild heartbeat through his palm, to listen to their harsh breathing.

"I don't like your clothes. Take them off." Kadar instructs while he wrings his fingers into the material of Federico's jacket, begins to rid the Italian of clothes and divests him of his t-shirt, and sits up long enough to help him pull the trousers off, has no shame in hooking his fingers in the hem of Federico's boxers to kill two birds with one stone. Before Federico knows it, he is butt naked and Kadar is in his full regalia, openly smirking at this discrepancy.

He roves inside a hind pocket with one hand and maps out Federico's torso with the other, slipping through the dusting of hair across the heaving chest. Strange, the Italian boasts more chest hair than Kadar, and Kadar finds is oddly attractive. 

"I'm forced to issue a ticket, sir." Kadar says throatily as he produces a condom and holds it before Federico's face like a dangling bait, "You paying now or later?"

Federico rips it from Kadar's hand, groans while grinding up against the rough texture of Kadar's pants, "I'm paying double, officer."

Kadar is grinning as he shrugs off his heavy uniform, unbuttons the shirt beneath, has no qualms about moving his hips into a tease while he slips out of his pants and shoes, his body coiled with tight lust. It's not his first sex, it's far from his first time bottoming, but it's his first time having a shag with someone he's known for less than a year, and no fucks are given. That's because Kadar had never been burning up with lust like this before, and he doesn't know whether to blame it on blue balls, or on the simple fact that Federico makes his cock soar higher than a space shuttle.

"Tell me something bad..." Kadar whispers below his ear, leaves an open-mouthed kiss and expects Federico to talk dirty to him, but the results are anything but.

"I'm gonna fuck you so good you're gonna be addicted to my cock and there's no rehab but me, baby."

Kadar breaks into a snort before he drowns himself in laughter. Federico joins in, knowing full well what he's done and feeling no guilt for it.

"On a second thought, just keep your mouth shut." Kadar says while he's working himself into some semblance, peppering his kisses with residual chuckles as he follows the bunching tendon on Federico's neck, climbing up. His mouth stretches into a grin during the crinkle of the condom wrap. Federico is growing impatient. 

"Do I prepare you?" His voice is heavy with mindless lust and his cock is poking Kadar's hip, and the Syrian feels oh-so-mighty as he nuzzles up to his ear to whisper.

"Came prepared."

Federico's moan of appreciation he feels along the line of his chest, and the twitch of his dick against his hip, and he unfurls backwards, bends over to reach into his jacket, procuring, after a few moments of deliberate tease, a lotion that is slick like heavens when Kadar smooths a few fat dollops down the length of Federico's cock after the Italian rolls the condom down. There will be time for a more thorough exploration, later, when neither of them is humming with impatient lust and dying to fuck the other's brains out this very instant, so Kadar aligns himself, rejects all assistance as he keeps Federico's obeying wrists under the grip of one hand while he helps himself with the other, slinks inch after inch down to fill himself up full of cock.

He sits for a moment, content, adjusting to the girth with a dazzling smile on his face, until Federico thrusts up when there is nowhere more to sink into the tightness of Kadar's body, until all he feels is a rasping of friction so pleasant it sends Kadar into an immediate moan.

Kadar has no patience for starting out slow, and he's all but a wild nympho riding it out on Federico's dick like it's his last ride, keeping the man's wrists hard upon the flat surface of the rear deck and his other keeping his jaw tilted up with fingers digging into his skin to keep their eyes locked.

Kadar rides him unabashedly in a heavy pace and the windows are marred with a thick veil of haze, foggy, the car is rocking-or-swaying to accommodate Kadar's hard fucking. His body is weak and strong under the assault of pleasure that branches through his guts and out, and it won't take him more than a handful of minutes to find release.

Federico has too long been caught up in doing all the work and knows to appreciate a dominant receiving partner because there are many better positions than just missionary and doggy. Any that don't involve his partner just lying and taking it is better, and Kadar's dominance is pleasant in ways that go beyond this simple nuisance in the scales of sex and wanders further into his overall perception of Kadar, and he is slain all over again.

Federico feels the _clench_ of Kadar's hand upon his wrists, stares open-mouthed at blue, _blue_ eyes and the pouty swell of Kadar's shiny lower lip before the Syrian whispers out, a harsh and breathy plea on his lips.

"Can I keep you...?"

Kadar touches their foreheads during a moment of respite, just a whisper of touch, close enough to feel the breath of chuckle that slips past Federico's mouth and he smiles up in a completely dazed and out-of-this-world look.

"Tesoro mio, per sempre..." Federico answers Kadar's possessiveness and Kadar knows not what the words mean, but they sound pretty and he is content enough, pleased enough to resume his pace, to allow Federico to thrust up to the best of his abilities.

Federico lets Kadar's strangled moan soak into his ears and memory, and Kadar releases his wrists as he ventures near precipice and a groan spills from Federico's mouth when he drops eager hands to dig into the muscle of Kadar's tight ass, only for the briefest moment. He reaches up to enfold him into a tight grip, holds his torso deeply-pressed against his own, holds their bodies as one to feel the orgasm that travels through Kadar's body and into his own, the twitch of Kadar's body and hitch of his breath, and he savors it all, couples it with his own building climax as he spends himself while cleaving to the last sparks of Kadar's.

In the quiet that settles after, Kadar leans his temple on Federico's forehead, tilts his head to the side a sliver, just enough to breathe properly. His eyelids feel like lead and he wishes they could stay like this all night. Morning.

He pets Federico's hair, combs through his hazel bangs in a soft brush, smiles through the wave of drowsiness that is settling over him like the ruddy line settling over the horizon to herald the slow rise of sun.

Yes, he's keeping this one for himself.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Pardon my bad ending, and please correct me if I butchered the Italian. Thank you for reading <3


End file.
